Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 13 – She Whispers in the Fog

The sky had turned the color of wet concrete by the time we were a few miles out from the FEMA yard. The world was quiet except for the soft grind of tires on cracked asphalt. The fog was so dense it swallowed everything ahead of us. The high beams lit a white wall barely twenty feet in front of the truck. I drove twenty miles an hour, sometimes less.

The others sat in silence. The hum of the engine was the only thing that felt real in a world that suddenly wasn’t. Every few minutes, a shadow drifted past — something walking or twitching along the shoulder. Zerkers moved aimlessly, slow and disoriented, but too many lingered near the lanes.

I keyed the radio, hoping for a voice.

“Clear Water, this is Security One, do you read me?”

Nothing but static.

“I say again, Clear Water, this is Security One, do you copy?”

A faint click. Then her voice — soft, steady, alive.

“Security One, we read you loud and clear.”

“Alex?” I breathed. “It’s me.”

“Pa?” Her voice trembled through the static. “Oh my God… Pa, is it really you?”

“It’s me. We’re ten miles out. Is everyone okay? Over.”

“So far, yes. Power’s spotty but the generators are holding. We sealed the west gate after the last pulse.”

“Good. Keep everyone inside. We’ll be home soon.”

“Copy that. Marie’s been asking for you every hour.”

“Tell her I’m bringing breakfast.”

Alex exhaled, her voice softening. “Just… hurry.”

The line clicked and fell quiet.

Mateo stared into the haze, hand tight on his rifle. “The fog’s thicker than before. It feels alive.”

I didn’t answer. Static crawled across my skin; the air carried charge.

We rolled on. Dead trees lined both sides of the road. Shadows drifted in the mist — people or things that used to be people. Some stood perfectly still; others shuffled and froze again. Driving through it felt like passing through a field of ghosts.

We turned onto Plattview Road, its long stretch swallowed in white. The centerline appeared and vanished like a heartbeat under the fog.

Then Mark stiffened. His head tilted like he was listening to something none of us could hear.

“Stop the truck,” he whispered.

“Not here.”

“Stop!” His voice cracked. “RJ — stop the truck.”

Carmen leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

He pressed a trembling hand to the windshield. “She’s there.”

A figure walked the centerline ahead — a woman, head tilted, hair long and matted.

Mateo squinted. “Who is that?”

Mark’s voice broke. “My wife.”

Carmen frowned. “He’s married?”

“No,” I said quietly. “He was. She died before all this.”

Before I could react, Mark popped the door and jumped out. The headlights flickered just as I hit the brakes. The truck skidded to a stop. The MCU behind us swerved, barely missing the bumper.

“Mark!” I yelled.

He didn’t answer. He ran ahead, hands out, calling her name.

The woman turned. Her face was pale, eyes dull but locked on him.

Carmen whispered, “Oh God… what’s wrong with him?”

I jumped out. Santiago followed, tension in every step.

Mark knelt and wrapped his arms around her waist, like a child finding their mother.

“It’s me,” Mark whispered. “Lydia… it’s really you.”

She didn’t speak. Her lips curled into a smile that almost looked human.

“Mark!” I called. “That’s not her. We need to move.”

He turned toward us, tears streaking his face. “She came back.”

Her posture shifted.

Her head tilted too far. Her hands twitched. Her smile widened in a way no human face should.

“Mark,” I said quietly, “step away.”

He didn’t.

Her head tilted farther, bones straining under skin. Then she smiled — wide, wrong, teeth pushing through split lips.

She moved fast. Too fast.

Her hands snapped up, cupping Mark’s face like she meant to kiss him. For a heartbeat, it almost looked tender — until her thumbs drove into his eyes.

Mark’s scream tore through the fog.

She twisted.

The snap was sharp and final.

His body collapsed in a heap. She had wrenched his head completely around.

We froze. Carmen gasped. Mateo stumbled back, choking for air.

For a moment, I thought I saw pity in her eyes — something trapped inside her that hated what she’d done.

Then it vanished.

Mark’s body lay twisted on the asphalt, eyes staring backward. The Berserker tilted her head, blood dripping from her wrists, and smiled again — slow, knowing.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

Then she bolted — a blur of motion, pounding toward us with a hunger that came from somewhere deeper than instinct.

“Hurry, let's go!” Santiago shouted.

I sprinted back into the cab and slammed the pedal.

She collided with the truck hard enough to rock it. Her face flashed in the headlights — blood, rage, and something disturbingly human — before the fog swallowed her whole.

Silence clung inside the cab. No one spoke. The road behind us kept its secrets.

The MCUs stayed close, engines roaring through the white. The steering wheel vibrated under my hands.

Not from the road.

Not from the engine.

From something deeper.

The hum was still there.

Soft.

Steady.

Like it had climbed into the truck with us.

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ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY A
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Pre-dawn movement inside CWP showed personnel bracing for a distressed return. Internal chatter confirmed unstable fog conditions and heavy Phase III Resonance presence along Subject Zero’s route. Passive resonance bleed detected through structural interference indicated one convoy member exhibited signs of prior SCD activation exposure, consistent with hallucinations and auditory misperception. Medical staff prepared intake zones for potential psychological casualties. Maintaining covert proximity for Subject Zero’s reentry.

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ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY B
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Incoming field reports referenced severe disorientation within the convoy before FEMA contact. Passive resonance echoes suggest an SCD unit had activated in Mark’s vicinity earlier in the route, producing symptoms matching pre-Pulse hallucination onset. This aligns with behavioral instability observed during Phase III Resonance encounters. Expect significant emotional and cognitive fallout among survivors. Continuing shadow monitoring for individuals to divert toward NLC after CWP regroup.